


Turkey Daze

by Sk8er_Chica



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Brotherly Love, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8470195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sk8er_Chica/pseuds/Sk8er_Chica
Summary: When Sodapop puts himself in charge of Thanksgiving dinner, all bets are off.





	1. Chapter 1

Tuesday night was unusual because it was just us three at the dinner table. After we did the dishes, I sat in Darry’s chair to read _Call of the Wild_. It was quiet, but the comfortable kind of silence that almost never happens in our house.

“Hey, Darry,” I said.

“What?” Darry’s voice was muffled because he was lying on his stomach with his face pressed against the sofa cushion. He was getting a backrub because he’d strained some muscles trying to carry too much roofing at work again. Darry winced and said, “Not so hard, Sodapop, that's tender”

“Isn’t Thanksgiving in a couple days?” I asked. I knew it was, but Darry hadn’t mentioned it at all.

“Yeah, I think so,” Darry said. “Why?”

“I was just wondering if we were gonna do anything this year,” I said.

Darry was silent. It hadn’t been very long since Mom and Dad had died in a car wreck, leaving him to take care of me and Soda. He worried about everything now; I couldn’t remember the last time the three of us had done anything fun.

“Do something like what?” asked Darry.

“Have a turkey dinner,” I said. We’d done that every year since I could remember and started inviting the gang when we got older. Last year’s hadn’t been great; Dally had been in the cooler and Johnny had the flu and was too sick to eat anything.

“I don’t know about that, Ponyboy,” Darry said in a serious tone. “I wouldn’t mind havin’ the boys come by, but money’s awful tight right now.”

“Since I’m workin’ now, I could pay for some of it,” Soda volunteered, now kneading Darry’s shoulders like bread dough.

“Somebody still has to make all that food,” Darry pointed out. “It used to take Mom all day.”

“I’ll do it!” Soda said enthusiastically. “I know how to cook! Me and Pony can work it all out so you won’t have to do a thing ‘cept eat.”

“Well, that’s as good a plan as any,” Darry said, which was his coded way of saying yes.

Soda let go of Darry and cheered. He grabbed the pad of paper and pencil that we kept by the phone and started scribbling away. "I know we need a turkey. Do we still have Mom’s old roasting pan?”

Darry shook his head. We didn’t really have any use for it, so he probably sold it or gave it away.

“Then how are we gonna cook a turkey?” I wanted to know.

Soda shrugged. “We’ll just buy a new one. What else do you guys want?”

“Mashed potatoes and gravy,” said Darry.

“Sweet potatoes with marshmallows.” I said. “Rolls and stuffing.”

“And it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie,” said Darry.

“It sure wouldn’t,” Soda agreed. He put his tongue between his teeth as he wrote all that down and added out loud, “Cranberry sauce.”

Darry and I flinched. Neither one of us can stand that stuff; sometimes lately it feels like that’s the only thing we have in common at all. Soda loved cranberry sauce and could eat a whole can by himself if we let him.

Darry didn't ask who we were inviting because he already knew. My best friend Johnny, who had it awful rough at home. Both his parents were drunks and hit him when they weren't ignoring him. If it wasn’t for us, Johnny probably would’ve frozen or starved to death a long time ago. Then there was Dally, who also didn't have anywhere else to go for Thanksgiving. Two-Bit's mother cooked Thanksgiving dinner for her, him, and his kid sister, but she didn't mind that Two-Bit always came over to eat with us.

Soda said, “I’d ask Steve, but his dad grounded him for some stupid reason. So Two-Bit, Johnny, and Dally, and us makes six.” He looked down at the shopping list and let out a loud whistle. “Glory, this is gonna be expensive.”

“You can take the sweet potatoes off since we’re havin’ mashed potatoes,” Darry suggested.

“Come on, Darry, we have mashed potatoes all the time,” I griped. “Can’t we have somethin’ else for a change?”

I thought Darry might start hollering at me; he had a pretty short fuse lately.

Soda jumped in and said, “I want sweet potatoes too.” He knew Darry wouldn’t argue with him.

Darry didn’t protest, but he did ask, “How are you gonna pick all this up? Aren’t you workin’ an extra shift tomorrow?”

“I’ll go on my break or something.” Soda tapped the eraser against his chin. “Y’know what else would be fun? ‘Member when we was little and Mom dressed us up like Pilgrims and Indians and had us act out the first Thanksgiving? We could get the whole gang in on it.”

I almost laughed just trying to picture Dallas Winston in a cardboard Pilgrim hat or construction paper Indian headband like we made in grade school. He’d probably beat our heads in if we so much as tried to put one on him. I stayed in the living room for hours reading my book until Darry told me to go to bed. I was so tired I almost fell down on top of Soda getting under the covers.


	2. Chapter 2

When I woke up, Soda wasn’t in bed with me. I couldn’t hear a sound from anywhere in the house, which like I said, isn’t normal. At least one of the gang is usually here for breakfast and none of them know how to keep their voices down. I tried to keep calm. Probably all that had happened was Darry and Soda had already gone to work. I got dressed and stepped out into the hall.

“Darry?” I called, just to check if I was really alone. “Sodapop?”

When I said Soda’s name, a suction-cup arrow whizzed past my ear.

“Morning, Pony,” Soda said cheerfully.

I noticed a neat stack of wooden bows and suction-cup arrows next to the couch. “Wow! I haven’t seen these in years! How’d you find ‘em?”

“Well, I was lookin’ for the Christmas lights ‘cause we’ll be needin’ em soon,” Soda explained. “I knew Dad put ‘em in the hall closet and they were on the top shelf back behind the lights.”

I experimentally fired an arrow into the hall just as Darry came out of his bedroom. Lucky for me, it missed him. Darry is an awful grouch in the mornings until he gets his coffee in him. Darry shuffled to the coffee pot, poured a cup, and sat at the table to read the morning paper. Only the paper wasn’t there.

“Hey, Soda, did the paper come yet?” Darry asked.

“Um…no,” said Soda, shifting his weight to one leg like these birds I saw on _Wild Kingdom_ once.

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, don’t think for a second I can’t tell when you’re lyin’,” Darry snapped. “Now where is my newspaper?”

Soda tried to stuff something in the cabinet out of sight, but Darry was too quick for him. He frowned dangerously. Soda had torn up the sports section to make an Indian headdress, complete with feathers.

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis,” Darry repeated. “Where’d those feathers come from?”

I knew. When I came home from track practice last week, Soda and Steve were having a pillow fight for some reason; they busted the pillows and there were feathers everywhere.

“What woulda been wrong with using yesterday’s paper, huh?” said Darry.

“Aw, Dar, please don’t be mad,” begged Soda. “Look, if you turn it this way, you can still sorta read it.”

Darry mumbled something that sounded like, “I swear I ain’t related to you sometimes.” He finished his coffee, put the mug in the sink, and left for work without his usual bacon-egg-and-tomato sandwich. Soda watched with a hurt look on his face.

“Come on, Soda, cheer up,” I said. “Darry gets mad and hollers at me all the time, but he always forgets about it by the time he gets home.”

Soda nodded, finished his toast, and put on his DX baseball cap. “I gotta get going to work too. Just leave a note on the door if you go to town or something, okay? Be good, Pony.”

I thought about calling Johnny to invite him for Thanksgiving, but I remembered his folks didn’t have a phone. I decided to wait at home to see if he or Two-Bit or Dally might come by. I cracked open _Call of the Wild_ again and finished it in about two hours. Lunchtime came and no sign of any of the boys.

Figuring I’d stretch my legs, I left a note saying I was going to Spencer’s Special, the discount store. Sometimes they had good paperbacks. I asked the girl at the counter what books were new and she listed off some sci-fi stories and some romances. I’d rather read Westerns or the classic books they have us read at school. She was cute and I didn’t want to walk out without buying anything, so I spent a nickel on a Hershey bar and ate it on the walk home.

I played solitaire and flipped through some of Soda’s old comic books until Soda came home with an armload of grocery bags. He told me that he had run into a problem: he didn’t have enough money to get the turkey or the cranberry sauce. Soda stopped by Two-Bit’s house to tell him about Thanksgiving. Two-Bit promised he’d get the sauce and the turkey; Soda would pay him back. I could think of a hundred ways that could go wrong, but Soda was in charge of cooking.

Darry came home a little while later. He was in a much better mood than he’d been that morning. His crew had finished a job ahead of schedule, so they all got bonuses. He whistled as he got pork chops out of the freezer and mashed some potatoes. I turned on the TV. Soda got out Mom’s recipe file and spread the cards out on the living room floor. We both got so lost in what we were doing that we barely heard when Darry yelled to us, “Sodapop! Ponyboy! Supper’s getting cold!”

Soda jumped to his feet and I followed right behind him. Darry handed me a plate and I saw he'd put applesauce on the pork chops. I don’t know where got that idea from, but it sure tasted good. We had leftover chocolate cake for dessert, then Soda and I did the dishes.

“Soda, are you sure everything’s ready for tomorrow?” asked Darry for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I’ve got everything under control, Dar,” Soda assured him. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you. I just don’t want everyone showin' up hungry tomorrow and leavin' the same way ‘cause something didn’t get done, that’s all. You’ve never made a turkey dinner before.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard. I went to the store after work and got everything we need,” said Soda.

Darry smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, I sure can’t wait to taste all your hard work, little buddy.”

Soda smiled back.

 0-0-0-0

A pretty bad storm rolled in late that night. I know because the thunder claps were so loud they shook mine and Soda’s bedroom window. Soda slept through it; I swear he could sleep through the Will Rogers High marching band playing outside. I was suddenly thirsty and got up to get a glass of water. I was standing at the sink filling it up when I heard the _squeak-slam_ of the screen door. I thought it was just the wind until I saw a small shadow just inside the house. I moved closer to it.

“Ponyboy?” the shadow whispered.

It was Johnny and he was soaking wet. He must’ve been sleeping outside again.

“Hey, Johnnycake,” I whispered back. “Hold on and I’ll get you a towel so you can dry off.”

“N-N-No, thanks.” Johnny’s teeth were chattering.

“Come on, Johnny, you’re gonna catch pneumonia.” It surprised me how much I sounded like Darry.

“I-I’ll be f-fine,” said Johnny, taking a few steps toward the couch. “J-just w-wanna go t-to sleep.”

Even in the dark, Johnny looked dead tired.

“All right then,” I said. “There’s a blanket on the back of the couch if you want it. At least take off your jacket and socks so you don’t freeze to death.”

Johnny did. We had a few packages of Swiss Miss in the cabinet and I thought about offering some to warm him up, but Johnny obviously wanted to be alone tonight.

“Th-thanks, Ponyboy,” Johnny mumbled.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Johnnycake.”

“N-Night, Pony.”


	3. Chapter 3

Opening my eyes on Thanksgiving morning, the first thing I noticed was a warm, spicy smell. I got dressed and went into the living room. Johnny was still asleep on the sofa, curled up barefoot under his jeans jacket. The blanket was where I’d left it. Soda was the first one awake for a change, bustling around in the kitchen. He waved at me.

“Hey, Pony,” Soda said hoarsely so he wouldn’t wake up Johnny.

“Hey, Soda,” I yawned.

I went in the kitchen, helping myself to a glass of chocolate milk. Soda had been up for quite a while. There were sweet potato peels all over the counter; he’d set a bowl of dough on the table to rise.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Pony,” Soda said cheerfully.

There was flour and pumpkin filling smeared all down the front of his T-shirt. He was moving quick, his cheeks were bright pink, and his hands were kind of shaking.

I groaned. “Soda, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” he asked, sipping something out of a mug.

“That’s Darry’s coffee, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” Soda said. “I’ve never had it before, but it’s all right with plenty of sugar in it.”

Darry joined us, wearing an undershirt and blue pajama bottoms. He sat down at the table, rubbed his eyes, and asked what time it was.

I checked the clock. “It’s about ten-thirty.”

“That it?” Darry looked perplexed. “I feel like I’ve been asleep all morning.” He noticed that Soda was even more lively than usual and sighed. “Sodapop, didn’t I tell you you’re not supposed to drink coffee on an empty stomach?”

We’ve never had breakfast on Thanksgiving; Mom always chased us out to play football in the yard so we wouldn’t be in her hair while she was trying to cook. Soda grabbed a stick of butter and started greasing a large metal roasting pan.

“Where’d you get that?” I asked.

“Johnny brought it over with him last night,” Soda explained. “I bet his mom threw it at him when she kicked him out of the house.” He shook his head in disgust. “Good-for-nothing old hag.”

I blinked. Soda never talked bad about anybody, but I could understand why he was; none of us liked Johnny’s mom because of how she treated him. I secretly wondered why Mrs. Cade had a roasting pan in her house in the first place. As far as any of us knew, she didn’t even know how to cook.

“I’d march over to Johnny’s place and throw it right back at her if I thought it’d do any good,” Darry drawled.

“Darry, not so loud,” I said.

Johnny was awful sensitive about people saying anything against his parents, no matter what they did to him.

Darry quickly changed the subject. “So is everything all set there, little buddy?”

“Yep,” Soda said.

“You don’t need any help with anything?”

“Dar, I said I got it all under control,” Soda said for the thousandth time in two days.

I suddenly remembered something that I hadn’t seen in the refrigerator when I got my chocolate milk. “Where’s the turkey?”

“Two-Bit’s bringing it later,” Soda said. “I bet he’s at home right now waiting for the Mickey balloon to show up on TV.”

I’d almost forgotten about the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Mom always liked to watch it to see what kind of floats they came up with; Dad liked trying to guess how they were built. Johnny was still asleep, so Darry made sure to turn the volume all the way down before he put on the TV. The streets were jammed and a high school marching band was making its way across the screen. I kind of wondered if Dally had ever gone to the parade when he lived in New York; I’d have to ask him later. Soda hummed “Blue Christmas” to himself because none of us could tell what song the band was really playing.

I sat on the floor in front of the TV so I could see what was going on better. Darry made sure Soda wasn’t about to set the oven on fire before pouring himself coffee. He sat in his chair to watch the parade with me. Over on the couch, Johnny was starting to come to his senses. He squinted his big black eyes at the giant Snoopy balloon.

“Morning, Johnnycake.” I said. 

“Morning, Pony,” he said groggily.

“You sleep all right?” asked Darry.

Johnny shrugged with one shoulder. When Johnny lifted up his head, I could see a fresh bruise on his tan cheek.

“How’d you get that?” Darry wanted to know.

I wasn’t surprised when Johnny didn’t answer. He kept real quiet about what went on at his house, but we knew where all the marks and bloody noses came from anyway. I wished we had the money to let Johnny live with us so he didn’t have to worry about getting belted in the mouth every time he turned around.

Johnny sat up. “Do you guys mind if I use your shower?” he asked in his usual quiet way.

“No.” Darry and I said together.

Our house was open to all the Greasers in the neighborhood.

“If you need to, you can borrow some of my clothes, Johnny,” I offered. Even though Johnny was older than me, we were pretty close to the same size.

“Thanks,” Johnny said gratefully, heading toward mine and Soda’s room.

Not long after that, we heard the shower running. Johnny came out a while later, wearing an old pair of my jeans and one of my Will Rogers Junior High Phys Ed shirts. I was playing solitaire on the floor, looking up at the parade every once in a while. Soda took the pumpkin pie out of the oven.

"Hey, Johnnycake!" he called. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

"Soda's makin' the turkey dinner this year," I told him. 

"Turkey ain't here yet, though," Soda put in. "Two-Bit's bringing it."

Johnny nodded, one eye on the TV. He blushed as a bunch of girls with long legs and short skirts pranced across the TV screen, twirling their batons; there was a girl that Darry went to school went who did that at halftime of all their football games.

“I wonder what it’s like to be in that parade,” I said. “Have all those people cheering and waving at you. Soda was in the Christmas parade once, remember?”

It was back when he worked at the stables and they let him ride one of their horses because he was so good at it. Dad said it didn't hurt that Soda was handsome.

“It’d make me nervous,” mumbled Johnny.

The parade ended with a sleigh pulled by eight fake reindeer carrying a guy dressed up as Santa Claus. Mom and Dad used to take us to the Christmas parade when we were little, but our Santa wasn’t near that fancy.

“Wanna go play some football?” asked Darry.

I felt bad that Soda was gonna be left out, but Darry and I hadn’t gotten along too good lately, so I figured I had to say yes. Johnny nodded. After Darry got dressed, we all headed for the vacant lot. We didn’t have enough people for a real game, so we just tossed the ball to each other and kicked it around. Johnny and I took turns tackling Darry. We walked to the house when the fun wore off.

The kitchen was even messier than it had been when we left. Wrappers, boxes, dirty bowls, and pots and pans were everywhere. The roasting pan was still empty. I wasn’t surprised because Two-Bit would’ve had to walk past us in the lot to get to our house so we would’ve seen him. Dally hadn’t showed up yet either, but we weren’t surprised about that either; he was late for everything.

Darry turned on the TV before he flopped down in his chair. Me, him, and Johnny all watched a football game, even though we didn’t care about either team. Darry’s favorite and Soda’s too were the Dallas Cowboys, mostly because of the name, but that game wasn’t starting until after dinner. I was glad because I didn’t want Soda to miss that too. We kept an ear out for Two-Bit; you could usually hear him coming long before you ever saw him.

“Where the hell is Two-Bit?” Darry asked at halftime, annoyed that he still hadn’t come with the turkey.

“I don’t know,” Soda replied, biting his lip. “I told him we were eating at seven.”

I got up and leaned in the kitchen doorway to check the clock; it was almost three. “I hope Two-Bit hurries up.” I’d worked up an appetite playing football.

“He better,” said Darry. “Turkeys take a long time to cook, you know.”

"He'll be here," Soda sounded more anxious.

"Look, I know he's our buddy and all, but you gotta admit Two-Bit ain't the most reliable guy in the world. Do you have any clue where he could be?"

Soda shrugged.

I stood up. "I can try calling Mrs. Mathews." I walked into the kitchen and dialed Two-Bit's number. After talking to his mom, I reported back to my brothers. "She said she's kinda worried 'cause he never came home last night." I wouldn't have been if I were her; Two-Bit is always out tomcatting around. "I told her we'd call her if he shows up over here."

I took half a step toward the living room and the phone rang again. I answered it since I was closest.

" _Hey, Ponyboy!"_ said Two-Bit's cheerful voice from the other end.

"Darry wants to know when you're getting here with the turkey." I said.

" _Um...I can't. Listen, I know it's a lot to ask, but could you and Darry spare some money?"_

"I don't know. I'll have to ask." I replied slowly, wondering what was up. I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and called out, "Darry, can Two-Bit borrow some money?"

"How much?" Darry called. 

"How much?" I repeated.

Two-Bit told me the amount and I relayed it back to Darry. He said yes, but he better get every cent back.

"Where are you, anyway?" I asked.

 _"In jail._ " Two-Bit sounded as nonchalant as ever. " _Dally's here too. It's kind of a funny story, really. See, I went out last night to get the turkey like y'all asked me to. While I was at the grocery store, I ran into Dallas. Really weird to be seeing Dally Winston in a grocery store, let me tell ya. He says hi and I says hi back..."_

I could already tell this was one of those stories where it would take Two-Bit forever to get to the point. Meanwhile, I'm stuck with Darry getting hungrier (and angrier) by the second. 

" _...Dally says he'll get the cranberry sauce and goes down one of the aisles. I'm starin' into the meat case, tryin' to figure out how to sneak one of them big turkeys out of the store. I thought that if I stuffed it up my shirt, I'd just look like I was fat and nobody'd suspect a thing."_ Typical Two-Bit.  _"I caught up to Dally and we got out of the store, no problem. The turkey was awful cold, so I tried to scoot it on outta my shirt. It wouldn't budge. Ya know why? The damn thing was stuck to me! Dally and me was tryin' to pull it off when we ran smack into the fuzz. Since the turkey fell outta my shirt and they found the cranberry sauce in Dally's jacket, well..."_ He trailed off.

"Dally and Two-Bit are in the cooler," I told Darry. "They tried to steal a turkey."

" _They said they'd let us go if we could pay for everything. Are y'all coming or not?"_ Two-Bit sounded upset. " _I think I got frostbite on my belly and the fuzz won't take me to the hospital._ " I heard rough laughter in the background.  _"Dally, shut up!_ " Two-Bit barked. " _It hurts_!"

I looked questioningly at Darry. We didn't really have a choice and he knew it. If we let Two-Bit and Dally sit in jail, we wouldn't have any meat to go with our rolls and potatoes. Darry heaved a sigh, swore, and grabbed the keys to our old truck. He slammed the screen door on his way out. I went back in the living room to keep watching the game. I would never say it out loud, but Soda should've known better than to trust those two.

"Glory, those sweet potatoes smell good," Johnny said almost wistfully.

For him to say that, I knew he had to be about starved to death. Johnny never hinted or outright asked for us to feed him; since the accident, he hesitated even when we offered and could hear his stomach growling. Soda knew it too and brought us a couple leftover marshmallows apiece to tide us over. It wasn't long before Darry came back with Dally and Two-Bit. Soda quickly took the turkey into the kitchen to stuff it. Two-Bit yanked up his T-shirt and showed us all a purplish-red oval mark that stretched from the middle of his chest to the waistband of his jeans.

"Look at this," he complained.

Dallas shrugged. "What ya get fer bein' an..." He added a few choice words before saying "idiot."

"Dal, it does look kinda bad," said Darry.

He disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a hot-water bottle. Two-Bit looked dubiously at it, but put it on his belly anyway. Soda put the turkey in the oven and came to sit with us. Pretty soon, we kinda stopped watching the game, fidgeting and not really saying anything to each other. I think the smell of that turkey cooking was driving us all crazy. Popping noises started to echo out of the kitchen.

“Sodapop, what’d you stuff the turkey with?” Darry asked.

“Popcorn, like Mom always did,” Soda replied.

“Did you pop it first?” I asked.

Soda bit his lip. “Was I supposed to?”

He ran into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a mixing bowl full of popcorn that was covered in turkey juice. “Anybody want some?” he offered.

“Gross!” Two-Bit cried.

Dallas threw a sofa cushion at Soda. Soda dodged it, but dropped the bowl of popcorn.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to Darry.

Darry sighed. “Pick it up and put the bowl out on the porch.”

Darry opened all the windows in the living room and the kitchen to get rid of the burnt popcorn smell that was making us all cough. This made us so cold we had to put on our jackets. Soda was the only one who wasn’t bothered by the temperature since the kitchen was nice and warm.

"Ponyboy, can you come in here and help me set the table?" he called.

I got up and walked to the kitchen. The rest of the serving dishes were already on the table. Somehow, Soda had turned the rolls green and the sweet potatoes blue. The stuffing was almost purple, which made me hope he hadn't put grape jelly in it. The cranberry sauce, of course, looked normal because you just had to dump it out of a can. 

"Pony, can I tell you somethin' without you tellin' all the guys?" Soda looked serious, which he almost never does.

"I won't tell a soul," I promised.

"I reckon the turkey might be ruined. It's gonna taste like the burnt popcorn that was in it." He groaned and sank into one of the chairs. "What am I gonna do? Everybody's out there starving and I ruined Thanksgiving."

"No, you didn't." Even if the turkey _was_ awful, there was still plenty to eat.

Soda went to pull the roasting pan out of the oven. It looked and smelled like any other turkey we'd ever had.

"So far, so good," I said, trying to cheer up Soda.

Soda grabbed the carving knife. "Think anybody'd mind if I had some, just to make sure it's okay?"

I didn't think so. He carefully carved a small piece off the side of the turkey, where nobody would really notice. When Soda tasted it, his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Hey, this ain't too bad!" he cried.

Soda cut a piece for me to try.

I chewed it thoughtfully. "It's kinda smoky, but, yeah, it's real good, Soda."

He looked relieved and started to carve a bigger chunk for himself.

"The turkey's for all of us," I jokingly reminded him.

Soda set the roasting pan on the table, poured everyone a glass of chocolate milk, and took off his apron.

Sticking his head in the living room, he announced, “Dinner is served."

Everyone just about ran him over getting to the table. Darry noticed the chunk missing from the turkey and rolled his eyes. Two-Bit and Dallas each made a grab for a drumstick, but Soda held up his hand.

“If it’s all right with everybody, I wanna do something before we eat,” he said. “Ever since we were little, Mom and Dad…” He swallowed, his eyes filling up with tears. “…they’d go around the table and have everybody say something they’re thankful for. They’d want us to keep doing it.” Even Dallas looked somber. “I’ll start,” Soda went on, “I’m thankful for my brothers and my friends and my job at the DX so I can help take care of Ponyboy.”

“I’m thankful that the three of us were able to stay together,” said Darry, “and that Mom and Dad raised us right.”

“I’m thankful to Soda for cooking for us,” I said, “and for my family. And I’m thankful for our gang. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“I’m thankful for you guys inviting me over,” Johnny mumbled.

“I’m thankful for blondes!” Two-Bit said promptly. We all had to laugh at that. Then he added, “And I’m thankful that Darry bailed me and Dally out of the cooler. I’m also thankful that I missed lunch at the jail so I can eat more of this turkey.”

“I’m thankful the cops took Two-Bit’s harmonica away,” said Dallas.

And that was that. All six of us were finished.

Darry clapped his hands together. “All right, everybody, let’s eat.” 

THE END


End file.
